


Oh, How Time Goes Fast

by VallirenWrites



Category: The Brotherband Chronicles - John Flanagan
Genre: M/M, married for tax evasion, mostly - Freeform, this is not platonic whatsoever so please take note of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VallirenWrites/pseuds/VallirenWrites
Summary: After their friends’ union, Hal and Stig decide to get married— strictly for tax evasion purposes, of course.
Relationships: Hal Mikkelson/Stig Olafson, Lydia & Ingvar
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	Oh, How Time Goes Fast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThefirstRanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefirstRanger/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Time Honored Tradition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691158) by [ThefirstRanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefirstRanger/pseuds/ThefirstRanger). 



> chapter title taken from Of Monsters And Men’s “From Finner”. all credit for the story idea goes to TheLastRanger. 
> 
> to TheLastRanger— I’m so sorry it took me three months to write this! I hope you don’t mind that I made the Stig/Hal romantic, and thank you for letting me write it.

“Married for tax evasion,” Stig said, sounding a bit dumbfounded. “That’s legal?” 

Hal shrugged. “Tax evasion isn't.” Then he smiled, and his eyes flashed with a look that was nearly mischievous, alight with a new plan. “But it’s not like they can outlaw marriage now, can they?” 

“Well, no…” Stig trailed off, the realisation of Hal’s plan hitting him like a rock. His heart thumped louder in his ears and he swallowed, his throat going dry. “Under Skandian law, it’s legal for anyone to get married, right?”

Hal’s grin was nearly vicious. “Exactly.”

Stig frowned, recalling Erak’s barely contained fury at Lydia and Ingvar. “Don’t think Erak’s keen to see it repeated, though. He’d do anything to stop anyone who’d try and do it.” 

“He’s not quite Zavac though, is he?” Hal leaned across the table to snatch up a writing utensil, writing out a list of ideas Stig couldn’t see from where he was sitting. “If we could figure out a way to stop Erak from intervening, find a way to marry at a place or time when he’s not there, he can’t rescind a marriage after it’s already taken place—“ 

“We?” Stig interrupted. 

Hal stopped, blinked, coughed and turned a mild shade of red. “Might have gotten a bit ahead of myself there.” 

Stig felt a thrill he couldn’t fully explain, giddiness rushing through his veins and giving him a new sort of confidence. “I’m good and willing to marry for tax evasion purposes, but—“ He gave Hal a pointed look. “My mam always said I ought to only marry someone I love.”

His friend looked embarrassed. “Right. I mean. We don’t have to— that is— sorry.” 

“No. That wasn’t what I meant. I…” Stig paused, breathed in, and then decided to approach the issue with a typical Skandian lack of tact. “You’re one of the few people I would agree to marry, you know.” 

“Oh.” 

Stig forced an awkward laugh, hastily backtracking. “Just for tax evasion, though.” 

“Right. Of course,” Hal said. Stig could have sworn he saw a little bit of disappointment in his friend’s eyes but shook it off as wishful thinking, brought on by several painful months of pining. They were friends. Friends and nothing more, just like Lydia and Ingvar. 

There was another awkward silence, then Hal stood up from the table and grinned, motioning toward himself. “Come on, I’ve got an idea.” 

Stig followed him out the door and to Hal’s workshop, where blocks of wood, metal parts and all sorts of odd tools were littered across the benches. A pile of documents were strewn over Hal’s desk, little bits about skirl’s rights and Skandian tax laws. His friend grabbed the top one of the pile— it was a list of Skandian marriage laws. 

Stig raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been doing your research.” 

“I looked into it yesterday, after that whole incident,” said Hal. “It says here that a Skandian marriage, once in effect, can only be terminated by an agreement between the spouses’ fathers—“ 

“We won’t have to worry about that, then,” joked Stig, ignoring the way the words stung. 

Hal gave him a sad half-smile. “No, I guess we won’t. Apparently, it can also be terminated in the event of death, treason or by the decision of one or both of the spouses. So really, there’s not much Erak could do if we were able to get away with it.”

Excitement fizzled in Stig’s stomach. Hal was serious about this. “I guess not.” 

“So.” Hal turned around, clapped his hands, and his eyes lit. “Say if we were, for instance, to marry when the Oberjarl wasn’t here, he’d be too late to do anything by the time he got back. The only problem is, he won’t be gone now because it’s tax collection week.”

“We could just do it in the middle of the night.” 

Hal laughed, then paused. “You know, maybe you’ve got the right idea.” 

The next day, after a strenuous morning of working on fixing up the Heron while avoiding Borsa, Hal tugged Stig away by the hand like they were little children, past the rest of the crew. He motioned for Stig to be quiet as they crept along the outskirts of the town and towards the cliffs where Hal had saved his life. 

They didn’t go to the cliff ledge, but instead, a little sheltered area that was nearly invisible, concealed perfectly among the rock faces. Hal navigated the area with practised ease, leading Stig over uneven pathways and to the other side of a large boulder, where there was a little clearing studded with sparse, dying fall grass. He sat down with his legs over the ledge and motioned for Stig to sit beside him. 

Stig sat, careful not to get too near the ledge. He could swim now, but he was still leery of tall cliffs. “You’re really going out of your way to avoid those two.” 

Hal shook his head. “I just wanted us to be alone.” 

Stig looked at his friend again, this time noting the slump in his posture and his drawn expression. “Everything alright?” 

Hal didn’t say anything for a while, just tore up brown grass from the ground and scattered it on his leg, staring down at the frothing waves. The wind whistled against the cliffs, blowing Hal’s hair into his face. He didn’t seem to notice. 

While Hal wasn’t paying attention, Stig took the opportunity to stare, tracing his gaze over the curve of Hal’s lips, the slope of his cheekbones and the brush of long lashes. There was a physical tug in his chest, a hunger that had his eyes lingering on his friend’s lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Hal turned towards him, catching Stig’s gaze and Stig hastily turned away. His friend opened his mouth and Stig was sure he was about to make some comment on it, because staring at your friend wasn’t normal behavior, and what would that mean then? He quickly attempted to come up with a joke, a lie. 

Then Hal simply said, “I’m sorry.” 

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “What for?” 

“For just… springing the idea on you like that. I mean, I know a lot’s been happening and it would be even more to handle, I just… I thought, maybe, you’d want to.” A blush crept across Hal’s cheeks as he briefly glanced toward his friend. His face was open and vulnerable, a rare sight now. 

“I do,” said Stig. “I really do want to. I mean, reduced taxes and it’s you, you know? There’s not exactly someone else I’d want to marry.” He reached over, hesitantly taking Hal’s hand. “As friends or more than friends.”

Hal looked shocked and then broke into a grin, one that lit up his face and transformed him from the sad young man he’d looked before. “I think more than friends would be great.”

Joy welled up in Stig’s chest, euphoria that this wasn’t some illusion, some fantasy that would never come to life. He’d spent what felt like forever desperately wishing— he sent a silent thanks to the gods, to Frigga’s mercy, and then a prayer. It wouldn’t be an easy process, arranging for a genuine marriage. There would be a thousand things involved in the marriage; convincing Hannah to exchange their ancestral sword that had the history of a thousand creatures etched within its blade, organizing for a minister in the dead of night, learning the vows and the handfasting rites. It made Stig’s head spin to even consider it all. 

But it would be worth it, because he had Hal. 

Hal reached into his pocket and pulled out two simple silver bands, not quite new but well-polished. They’d been well-cared for and clearly meant a lot to someone. He took a deep breath, ran the tips of his fingers along the edge, and his face softened. “These were my mam’s. Mikkel had them made by the best silversmiths in Skandia, and they always meant more than anything to her. I used to see her polish them every night after he died.” 

“You didn’t… take them, did you?” 

Hal looked nearly incredulous, then laughed. “No. I talked to her today, about… all of this. My feelings. And this plan. She gave them to me, and told me if I wanted them, they were mine.” He glanced over to Stig, and Stig pretended not to notice the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ours.” 

Stig reaches out, brushing his fingers along Hal’s cheek, like he’d wanted to before. His friend—no, not just a friend anymore—touched his hand softly, the spark from yesterday back in his eyes. “Stig Olafson, will you marry me?” 

“Do I have to repeat myself again?” Stig asked, then laughed when Hal shoved him. He shoved Hal back, then before long it escalated into a wrestling match that left them both gasping for breath in between bursts of laughter. “Okay, okay. You know I will.” Hal glared at him, the effect somewhat ruined by the grass tangled in his hair. “Yes. Gorlog and Orlog, yes.”


End file.
